


Dean Winchester's Not-So-Scary Halloween

by castielskeleton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Autumn, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielskeleton/pseuds/castielskeleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween for Sam and Dean, and their small town high school has put on a haunted house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester's Not-So-Scary Halloween

“So, can we? Pleeease???” 

Not two seconds after he had shoved the crumpled orange paper into Dean’s hand, Sam started in with the begging. He had to admit, the kid’s puppy eyes were pretty convincing; big, brown, and on the verge of crocodile tears. He flattened out the garishly designed flyer in his palm. 

“No dice, Sammy. I’m not blowing my Saturday night at some dopey haunted house.” 

Determined, Sam ramped up the act. Bottom lip trembling, he pleaded, “Come oooonn, Dean. It’s just one night. And look,” he snatched the flyer out of Dean’s hands and relocated it about 2 inches in front of his face, “student council is putting it on. It only goes ‘til 10:30!”

“Eh, I dunno Sam... Aren’t you getting a little old for this?” 

Sam’s face crumpled. Dean immediately wanted to kick his own ass, thinking “Shit, of course he’s not too old for this, the kid just turned thirteen for Christ sake.” Dean scrambled to recover. “I- uh. Ya know what? It’s only one night, so why not?” 

“Really?! Sweet! I’m gonna go call Jess and tell her!” Sam had to shout the last words because his excitement had already carried him to the other side of the apartment to the phone.

This was a good year for the Winchester family. Ellen, a good friend of John’s, had set them up in an apartment in a part of town not surrounded by bars and thugs that would carjack you as soon as look at you. They had their own rooms, a proper kitchen, and an actual dinner table instead of paper plates supported on their laps. They lived within walking distance of where they had gone to school for the last month, and for once, Dean didn’t have to carry a bowie knife on the way there (he still did, out of habit, but he didn’t have to). Sam was excelling both in academia and social standing, of course. Who wouldn’t like the little moosie? Dean, on the other hand, had so far remained the flippant, womanizing loner in the leather jacket. The Winchester boys were nothing if not consistent. 

It was a Thursday. Two days before Halloween, and the whole town seemed to be going all out. Orange and black garland wrapped around lampposts, plastic skeletons in the store displays; hell, even the delinquents were getting in the spirit. The walls of the Third Street tunnel had been transformed into a spray-paint gallery of zombified townspeople, all mindlessly shambling after a rotting Mayor Shurley. And of course, the gigantic “Shriek Shack” that had been erected downtown. Dean had to admit that he was impressed. He knew from Ellen that the whole town donated either money or talent to make this come to life, and although he hadn’t gone inside, he could tell that thousands of hours of hard work had went into this thing. The intimidating façade looked like it had come straight from a horror flick on the big screen. Paint that peeled like dry skin in winter, shutters that desperately clung to the window with one hinge, and a doorway like a dark maw eager to swallow those who dared to enter this House of Hell. Sam wasn’t so easily spooked, but he was in for a promising night of Jess jumping into his arms out of fright (or at least, that would be the shy excuse she would whisper in his ear while they both blushed in the dark). 

Friday. The day before Halloween, and Sam hadn’t even thought of a costume. He was fortunate that Jess was going as Sandy from Grease, and Dean was feeling generous enough to lend him his black leather jacket so that he could go as Danny. The only thing left to do was to chop that mane off so they could work his silky hair into a greased up pompadour. The barbershop was only two blocks away, so they took the opportunity to enjoy the crisp autumn air and save a bit of money on gas, which was surprisingly expensive in this tiny town. As they walked, they talked, as brothers tend to do. Talking turned into teasing, which devolved into laughter, which nearly drowned out the sound of a small shout and an even smaller “oof!” as the dark haired boy walking towards them made impact with the asphalt. The boys chatter ceased as Dean rushed over to help the boy up. He extended his hand, and a pale hand reached up to grab it. Dean took a step back to survey the boy, and he seemed alright. He caught the brunt of the fall on his hands, but he didn’t escape a good sized raspberry on his sharp jaw. 

“Hey, you alright man? You took quite a tumble. It’s the cracked sidewalks, they’ll get ya every time.”

“Yes, I seem to be fine. Thank you for helping me up. I suppose I must have tripped. Like you said, cracked sidewalks, right?” He lifted his eyes, embarrassed, to meet Dean’s. The ice water blue of the boy’s gaze caught Dean off guard, causing a wrinkling in his smooth exterior. 

“Uh- name’s Winchester. Dean, Winchester.” God, more like Wince-chester. When did he turn in to James-flipping-Bond? “This is my brother, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you Dean and Sam. My name is Castiel. You can- uh, you can call me Cas.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam checking his watch, and heard his impatient sigh. “Ya know, Sam, why don’t you go on to the barber? I’m going to make sure Cas here gets himself home without eating any more concrete, okay?” He pulled fifteen dollars out of his worn leather wallet, and pushed it into Sam’s palm before he could protest. “Just make sure you tip ‘em well, Sammy.” And with that, he turned his attention back to the dark haired, scraped up mess that stood in front of him. 

“If that’s okay with you, that is.”

“I’m sorry?” Cas’ eyes narrowed and his head cocked slightly the side in his confusion. Suddenly unsure of himself, Dean clarified. “Is it okay if I- I mean, you don’t have to- ugh. D’ya mind if I walk you home?” He silently berated himself for sounding so nervous and stupid. It was just a walk, for crying out loud! 

Cas’ reply was quiet and slow. “…Oh.”

Surely he was thinking of a way to tell Dean that he wasn’t gay without making things awkward. Surely he was configuring all manner of nasty jokes about what a faggot he was, asking if he could walk another guy home. Surely he was-

Dean’s internal panic was cut short by Castiel’s deep voice. “Yes Dean. I think I would like that very much.” They could see the blood rising in each other’s cheeks, and they both silently tried to control their excited heartrates.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that it's not Halloween anymore but I'm a lazy piece of shit.


End file.
